


I Felt the Earth Move

by iheartgeekz



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartgeekz/pseuds/iheartgeekz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An earthquake shakes East City to its core, leaving Roy Mustang in charge of maintaining order and keeping his men safe.  Probably going to be Royai in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Why is _he_ here?” Breda whined, standing on his desk, well out of reach of the shiba inu below, staring up at him with his head tilted to the side. A second lieutenant in the military was afraid of a puppy. No one would believe it if they hadn't seen it for themselves. 

“I'm sorry, Breda.” Lieutenant Hawkeye apologized, calling Black Hayate away, “I didn't have much choice. My apartment is spraying for cockroaches and he can't be breathing in that poison. It's only for today, I assure you.” She lead the dog back over to her desk, instructing him to sit by her seat, away from Breda's desk.

“You've got roaches? Gross.” Havoc teased, helping Breda down from his perch, “You're a neat freak, how did you get roaches?”

“A neighbor brought them into the building,” she rolled her eyes at her subordinate, “And you have no room to talk. You've had rats in yours, I've seen them.” She'd been the designated driver one night when they all went out for drinks. To make sure that Havoc made it safely to bed, she'd followed him up to his apartment. When she opened the door, something brown and fuzzy scurried across her feet in the darkness.

“It was a _mouse,_ ” Havoc corrected her, “and there was only one time.”

“The dog can stay,” Roy Mustang confirmed, “As long as the rest of you are still able to get your word done without distraction.” That was rich. The colonel had no room to talk when it came to distractions keeping him from his work. Roy was a procrastinator to the extreme. Having the dog around gave him an excuse to slack off a little. When Hawkeye wasn't looking, he would try to get Hayate to do tricks or sneak him treats. It rarely worked though. He listened strictly to his master, ignoring orders from others.

Hawkeye brought a stack of papers over to Mustang's desk, “Sir, you really need to read these before you sign them. You initialed this entire stack when they require full signatures, not initials.”

Groaning, he began to work his way through the pile again, scribbling signatures across them all, “There,” he signed, “finished. Now where do these go?”

His lieutenant gave him an exasperated look, “You didn't read them.”

“I did!” he protested.

“Brigadier General Thomas.” she supplied.

“Thank you. Would you take these to him? He'll be expecting them by noon.”

At least he'd paid attention to that part of the pages, even though noon had already come and gone. “Noon today, sir?”

Roy glanced at his pocketwatch, reading 1320. “Yes, by noon today.” he admitted sheepishly.

She gathered the papers into a neat stack, shaking her head. After working with him for so many years, she thought she would get used to this sort of thing. Thankfully Brigadier General Thomas was not the type to adhere to strict deadlines. There was a good chance that she would find him asleep at his desk at this hour, taking a nap after lunch. She heard a whining over by her desk and she turned her head to the source. Her dog was pacing the room, pawing at the ground. He ran to his master and began rubbing against her legs. “Hayate? What's gotten into you?” she asked worriedly.

Roy noticed the lights hanging from the ceiling starting to sway, “Earthquake!” he shouted, “Get under your desks!” His lieutenant had no time to retreat to the safety of hers. He kicked his chair aside and grabbed onto her arm, violently jerking her down to the ground, sending the papers flying. He apologized briefly, as he guided her under his desk. Without thinking, he grabbed the dog too, shoving him under before taking cover himself.

The earth shook relentlessly. Pieces in insulation fell from the ceiling, lamps fell off desks and shattered on the floor. The constant movement became nauseating, nothing on the surface stood still for three full minutes as the tension deep in the ground released, unleashed its fury. Outside the office, people could be heard screaming, desperate to find safety. Those in the offices had been lucky, with heavy wooden desks taking the brunt of the force of debris falling from above. Windows broke free from their frames, raining shards of hell on those trying to escape. Roy latched on tightly to his lieutenant, covering her body with his. She in turn was wrapped around Hayate, who squirmed desperately in her arms, trying to break free, frightened and anxious. Despite his master's attempts to sooth him, he whined and thrashed.

When the shaking finally stopped, everyone waited a few moments before emerging, not sure if it was truly over. “Is everyone alright?” Roy asked, looking around at his men.

They nodded shakily, looking around at the destruction.

Roy knew they couldn't waste time.  “Master Sergeant, I need you to make your way to the main floor and shut off the power grid as well as the gas line emergency shut off. Any down live lines could be lethal for survivors and the gas lines could explode.”

Fuery nodded with a salute, “I know right where they are.”

“Breda, I need you to go to the north building, ensure that evacuations are underway and assist in any way you can.”

“Rodger!” Breda confirmed.

“Havoc, take the south building. It's only one floor but it's older, be careful.”

“Got it, chief.”

“Warrant Officer Falman,” Roy ordered, “Clear the parking garage and assist with directing traffic. Signals will be out and people need to get to safety. We can't have people standing around getting in the way of the emergency responders.”

“Yes sir.”

“Hawkeye, come with me,” he told his lieutenant, “We'll work our way from the top floor down for this building to help evacuate.”

“Sir, what about west?” she asked, “What of the survivors there?”

Roy looked out the window at the building across the courtyard. The western building was the old site of Eastern Command Headquarters back when it was a smaller division. The building was nearly a century old, and was dilapidated even before the earthquake. Now it was barely standing. The top two floors had sunken in on the one below. Black smoke was billowing from the holes where windows used to be. “No, it's not safe. Our priority is to assist as many survivors to safety as possible.” General Olivier Armstrong's words echoed in his ears, _love for the dead is pointless, fight to keep the living alive._

“But sir!” she objected, “Over two hundred men and women work in that building. Are we to operate under the assumption that they are all dead?”

Her defiance was expected, but starting to get annoying, “No, we are to assume that the lives that can be saved are too few to risk sending men in to rescue them. The other buildings have the potential for more survivors that we can help. Once the fires are out and emergency crews arrive, they will see if anyone in there can be saved.”

She balled her fists up tightly, her nails cutting into her palms, “Sir, I cannot obey that order.”

Roy sighed, it was useless. He knew she would not back down. He remembered the woman who almost was left behind in Ishval, the one who stopped to bury a fallen child. The power shut off, leaving only beams of sunlight filtering through the broken windows to light the room. Fuery must have found the shut off switches. “You have one hour.” he told her, “After that, you are to report back to me. If you do not return, I cannot promise that we will be able to send help until emergency crews are able to enter the building safely.” As much as it pained him, he knew he couldn't risk more men to rescue her if something when wrong.

She nodded in understanding, “I'll take Hayate with me, he'll be able to find survivors more easily than I can.”

Roy nodded, taking something out of his pocket, “Take this with you,” he placed his silver pocketwatch in her hand, curling her fingers around it, “I want this back by 1430, Lieutenant.”

She agreed, saluting him before taking off with Hayate at her heels.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some description of death and injury in this chapter. Nothing graphic but if you find such content objectionable, you may want to skip this chapter. Thanks for reading!

Roy found the top floor largely untouched. Men and women were finding their way to the stairwells, evacuating with little difficulty save for the lack of an elevator. Some cradled injured limbs, others had cuts from shattered glass. A few were only able to escape by leaning on their fellow soldiers. He had come up the main stairwell, so he knew it was clear and free of debris. He directed the fleeing masses to that route, trying to get them all out before the aftershocks came, his strong voice never betraying any fear or hesitation. Even those he considered his political rivals heeded his commands.

When he was in charge, people had a way of trusting him, obeying him. Except for Hawkeye. She was never one to follow orders blindly, even when those orders came from him. Always the stubborn one, she kept him on the straight and narrow path, promising to shoot him if he strayed too far. He questioned whether he made the right decision, letting her go off alone. A dog was hardly adequate backup. It wasn't that he doubted her abilities. She was better equipped to handle the situation than anyone he knew. He told himself that he would reconnect with her after the hour was up, that he would see her and her dog coming up the stairwell any moment. But so far he was alone.

* * *

As she approached the western building, Hawkeye realized that Roy may have been right. The inside was somehow worse than the exterior let on. The smoky corridors were hauntingly silent, save for the constant beeping of a smoke alarm. Unsurprisingly, the aged sprinkler system had failed to turn on in response to the fire. The flames were kept at bay by the water on the ground from broken pipes. She unrolled her turtleneck, pulling the fabric up over her mouth and nose to help filter out the smoke and dust. Nothing helped her eyes though, stinging as her vision blurred from tears, trying to wash away the irritating particles in the air. Her keen eyes were seen by some as a thing of legend, but they would be of little help here. A few people ran for the exit behind her, shaken, but well enough to run away from the scene. But many more weren't running, trapped beneath a section of roof that had caved in. She could see at least three, three that she was sure couldn't have survived their injuries.

She unclipped Hayate's leash, “If anything happens, go find the colonel.” she ordered, hoping that the dog would not only understand, but have the willpower to leave his master.

The dog looked up at her worriedly, keeping close to her side.

Hawkeye called out, trying to see if there were any signs of life. If there were, no one was strong enough to respond to her. She moved methodically down the corridor, checking each room. Hearing movement from inside a store room, she tried the doorknob. It wouldn't budge. She gave it a strong kick, but the sturdy wood held. She pounded on the door, “Can anyone hear me? Do you need help?”

There was no answer.

Frustrated, she took out a pocket knife and carefully began to work the screws out of the door handle, taking care not to strip the heads of the screws. Finally the door knob fell out in her hand and she was able to force the door open. Inside, tall bookshelves had fallen over like a stack of dominos. The floor was littered with decades of files. She found an arm, one with a pulse. As she dug through the pile, she unearthed a young man, pinned beneath the shelf at the waist.  He couldn't have been much older than she was.  By his uniform she could tell that he was a letter carrier, he'd just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Please. Let me die,” he begged, “It's too late for me.” His breaths were ragged and  uneven.  His chest rose and fell, lopsided as if one side could not keep up with the other.

“Hold on,” she pleaded, trying to move the shelf off the man. Even tilted at its corner, the weight was too much for one person to lift.  His injuries were severe. Even if he got out of the building, he would never walk again. His pulse was weak and thready, his eyes could barely stay open and focused on her.

“Please, I just want the pain to stop.” Hayate laid down next to the man, whining softly in an attempt to comfort him in his last moments.

“Are...are you sure that is what you want?” she asked hesitantly.

“I'm begging you,” he coughed, spitting up blood. His hand gripped hers tightly, desperately. 

Hawkeye drew her sidearm and placed it against the man's head. He gave her a nod of approval and closed his eyes. He was gone in an instant. It wasn't the first time she'd ended a life out of mercy but it never got any easier.

Leaning against one of the fallen bookshelves, she shut her eyes tightly.  Hayate left his post beside the fallen man and curled up at his master's side instead.  The warmth against her body was more comfort than her pet could understand. She clicked on the safety and tucked her weapon back away, silently praying that she would not be needing it again.  She opened the watch and checked the time, 1341. There was still time, and perhaps the next person could still be saved. Next to the watch face on the inside of the intricate silver casing was a slip of paper with a date written in Roy's messy handwriting. All State Alchemists had silver pocketwatches to symbolize their status. While identical in design, many were personalized by their owner. She knew that inside Edward Elric's watch was the date he and his brother left home, October 3rd of 1910 with a reminder to never forget. As far as she knew, Roy had nothing in his. He brought it home to show her after he received his certification, showing her that the Flame Alchemy he learned from her would be put to use for the people. Back then, the watch was empty. The paper was dated December 25th, 1912. Christmas Day three years earlier. She squinted, seeing something from the other side of the paper. Carefully, she flipped it over. It wasn't a slip of paper, it was a photograph. She was glad that no one could see the stupid grin on her face. Now she remembered. They'd gone to the Armstrong Estate for a ball that night and Roy had insisted on escorting her. In the photo, Roy wore a tailored grey suit, his hair slicked back, with his hand on his partner's waist. She was there dancing with him in a silky red dress that swept against her ankles as she moved. It was one of the few times she let her hair down, finally growing it out after leaving it short most of her life.

She glanced over at the other side of the watch. 1345. She had to move on. Two more floors to go.

* * *

Roy grew restless. Without his watch he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Clocks in corridors of the building had fallen from the walls, and many broke upon hitting the floor. But he had faith in his lieutenant. She had never been late before and he had no reason to doubt her ability to return to him safely. He put on his gloves, in case he needed to remove any obstacles in his way. So far, everyone he'd found had been able to walk away with minor injuries. A voice from behind got his attention.

“Hey chief!” Havoc had returned. “South is clear. Somehow, no casualties. The damage looks worse from the outside. Breda cleared the northern side, state Alchemists will probably have that one patched up first and we'll operate out of that one until this mess gets fixed.”

Roy nodded, “Thank you. The top floor is clear, I'm working my way down.”

Havoc watched his boss as they moved from room to room, finding most of them thankfully empty. Roy was being very objective, methodical. It was his way of coping with the stress, by focusing on the duty at hand. Anything to distract himself from the possibility of something happening to someone he held dear. Sirens wailed in the distance, slowly growing louder. More help was on its way.

 “She's alright, boss.” Havoc placed a hand on Roy shoulder, hoping it sounded like more just than an empty platitude.  He was worried about her too.  But he was also less worried about her than he would be about almost any person on the planet.  Hawkeye was a woman who could hold her own.

“You can't know that.” he countered, shrugging away the attempted comfort.

“No, but you can.” he told him, “Kind of like how Hayate knew there was going to be an earthquake. You two are crazy synchronized. Your gut would tell you if something ver happened to her. You would know.” If something had happened to that woman, Roy would be devastated. Hopefully having seen what the Elrics had sacrificed in their attempt, he would never think of trying the taboo. Roy trusted her, he believed she would be alright. Otherwise he would have never let her go alone. He trusted her with his back, and she trusted him with hers.

An aftershock shook the building, less violently than before. With nothing to take shelter under, the men crouched in a doorway, covering their heads. The shaking built up a crescendo and then faded away to nothing again. As the shockwaves dissipated, they wondered if the rest of their team was alright.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawkeye checked the women's bathrooms, finding sinks and toilets torn loose from the walls. Water had gushed freely from the broken fixtures before the pipes had been shut off, leaving a deep pool of stagnant water on the tile floor. Hayate stood outside the bathroom, torn between his urge to follow his master and his dislike of water. The stall doors hung lopsided on their old hinges. She checked under each stall door to make sure that each one was empty before moving on. She didn't feel too squeamish about going into the men's bathrooms, although to her surprise they were cleaner than the women's facilities. She called out, her voice echoing through the room. She heard a voice call back from the showers.

A man lay naked, sprawled on the floor. His right hip and knee were flexed at an unnatural angle. She assumed he must have slipped and fallen during the shaking and been unable to get up. The showers were open, with no curtains or walls between the shower stations. While this normally meant a disturbing lack of privacy, it also meant nothing to grip onto if you slipped. "Are you alright?"

The man nodded, holding his hip. He was disturbingly pale save for the deep purple bruising on his hip from the fall. Laying naked in the cold water for so long must have sapped the heat out of his body. She pulled off her jacket and covered him carefully. He hissed in pain, "I don't know how long I was down there, I didn't think anyone was coming back."

"I'm going to get you out of here," she promised, "Do you think you can stand on your good leg if I can help you up?" Trying not to put pressure on the his right side, she eased him onto his good leg, slinging his arm over her shoulder for support. He was at least a foot taller than she was so supporting him was going to be a challenge.  She finally managed to get his weight awkwardly distributed enough for the two of them to walk.  "What's your name, soldier?"

"Sergeant Marcus Roth, ma'am," he gave her a weak salute.

"First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye," she told him. "And this is Black Hayate. We're going to get you out of here, Sergeant." The dog followed along loyally at her side, curiously watching the humans as they hobbled along. She slowly guided him to the main doors where medics quickly took him from her, "He's hypothermic, he's been laying in a pool of water in the showers, he took a hard fall on his right leg."

She started to walk back in when someone grabbed her arm, "Ma'am, you can't go back in there." She didn't need to be told it was a bad idea. But if Roy Mustang couldn't get her to stay away, this man stood no chance.

"The rest of the building isn't clear, there could be more injured still inside," she broke free of his grip, taking the stairs up to the next floor. Hayate took off in a dash down the hall, running deeper into the building. He refused to come as his master called, waiting for her to come to him. He slipped under a desk in an office waiting area. Frustrated, Hawkeye crawled under after him, "What's wrong, boy?" She soon had her answer.

As soon as the ground began to shake, she understood. The aftershock was brief, but dislodged a lot of the debris that had broken loose during the initial quake. She took a treat out from her pocket, offering it to her pet, "Good dog."

* * *

 

Fuery's voice came echoing from a megaphone outside, shaky at first but finding his confidence, "This is Master Sergeant Kain Fuery. As of now we have 39 unaccounted for, including 31 officers, 8 civilians. _" And one dog_ , he added mentally, "Please report to your commanding officer to ensure that you have been counted so that we can dedicate our resources to finding the remaining missing. Civilians please check in to any officer if you have not done so already. Please do not re-enter the buildings for any reason. Evacuate to safe ground, shelters are located at the East Branch Library, King Bradley High School, and city hall. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, if you can hear me, your team needs to know you are okay."

Fuery slowly set down the megaphone, not caring too much that his last part of the announcement was off script. Falman gripped Fuery's shoulder gently, "She's alright. She still has twenty minutes. If she's not out by then, the colonel will go in after her."

"What, no!" Fuery objected, "We can't have more people going into the buildings, that's the whole point of having a head count is so we can know who's still inside! We want the number of unaccounted for going down, not up!" He knew the warrant officer was right, but it had to be prevented if at all possible. Losing one member if their team would be a devastating loss, but to lose them both would be unfathomable. They were all worried about Hawkeye but it just wasn't safe.

"Roy won't leave her," Breda agreed, "He'd never leave a man behind." He certainly wouldn't leave  _her_  behind. Even if all he could do was find her body, he would bring her back to them. There wouldn't be much left to the great Hero of Ishval after that.

* * *

 Havoc watched his commanding officer nervously. He could tell the colonel was still on edge, cracking his knuckles through his gloves. The confidence that came with leadership kept his fears hidden to all who didn't know the truth. More than anything else, Roy feared losing her. The building had been cleared on all floors and as they worked their way outside, Havoc prayed that Roy wouldn't have the crazy idea to go in after her in the western building. "You don't need to worry about her. She's like this crazy, perfect soldier."

"Did I ever tell you that I was wounded in the war?" Roy asked.

"Come to think of it, I think you mentioned it once." he knew Roy never liked talking about Ishval, or anything that happened during those years. Hawkeye was a little more open to talking about it, but was hardly proud of her accomplishments. When they did talk about it, it was usually for a reason, as a cautionary tale. Some soldiers relished in it, telling old war stories of heroism. Those were rarely the stories worth listening to.

Roy pulled down his uniform, revealing a healed bullet wound on his left shoulder, just below the collarbone, "It could have been lethal, if it hadn't gone through someone else first. She was distraught. Not because she'd been wounded, but because the round went through and still hit me." The old wound still bothered him sometimes when the weather shifted, a warning of when the rain would soon render him useless. He'd never asked, but he wondered if she could feel it too.

"With all due respect sir, I think you're both insane."

"Perfect soldiers are the ones that end up dying for their country. That's a fact. They do what they are asked to do, whatever duty they have to their countrymen, no matter the cost. That's what gets them killed. The only problem is no one ever asked her. She volunteered. She volunteered for the damn military, volunteered to get shipped off to war, and volunteered to go into a building that's falling down on her head. Now is that heroic or suicidal?"

Havoc stopped to think for a minute, "Maybe a little of both, sir?"

They joined up with the rest of their team. Roy somehow managed to stay composed, despite his darkest fears gathering like storm clouds. Nameless soldiers ran up to him with status updates. Fires out. Soldiers dead. Soldiers missing. Civilians dead. Civilians missing. Aid coming from Central. State Alchemists reporting. He wasn't concerned about the damage. The State Alchemists would have everything repaired in due time. And as heartless as it seemed, he wasn't too concerned about the dead. There was nothing he could do for them, except try to keep their numbers from growing.

"How many wounded do we have?" he asked Fuery.

"Thirty so far, sir," Fuery reported, "Medical teams are doing field triage, the most severely injured have already been shipped off to the hospital, but most have to wait here. Hawkeye was here with Hayate a few minutes ago. They brought out an injured sergeant. That's the last I heard of her."

Roy tried to remain objective. As much as he wanted to know that all of his men were alright, reality told him that they were no more valuable than any other life out there, desperate for help. She still had fifteen minutes to get back to him. "Set up a canteen station for the responders, we need drinkable water and whatever non-perishable food we have on hand. The armory is your best bet, it's held up well." Soldiers sprang into action to follow the colonel's order. If Roy ever achieved his dream of becoming Fuhrer, some day every one of these soldiers would be obeying him. Every man would protect those beneath him, keeping the ones they loved safe from harm.  Today every man and woman he met was following his orders.  But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was powerless to protect the ones he loved.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I just started a new job, which I love, but it is time intensive! Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

Roy felt an overwhelming sense of dread as he saw the trees in the distance start to sway. This time the movement was weaker, and he could still say standing, despite the shaking. However the building he'd been eying carefully finally succumbed to the damage, sending up a cloud of dust and debris to mix with the rising smoke. The aged brick walls were not strong enough to withstand the repeated shaking. The ground floors could no longer hold the weight of the floors above, plummeting toward the earth. The rising dust blocked out the sun, leaving the grounds a deep orange red, spraying a thin layer of gray powder across the landscape and every soul on it. When the dust settled, the extent of the damage was revealed. What was left of the entrance had collapsed, preventing anyone from entering or exiting the building.

Reluctantly, he gave the order for what had to be done, "State Alchemists, bring down the rest and get the fire out. Presume there are no survivors." They went to work quickly, trying to extinguish the fire. Up until now they had hesitated, per the colonel's order, not wanting to risk anyone still alive inside. They were highly efficient, collapsing what little was standing to try to smother the flames. Gallons of water were transmuted from the air, aimed toward the flames, drying the smoky air until it was almost impossible to breathe.

Finally, Roy dropped to his knees, "She's gone. I lost her." He brushed off any attempt his men made at trying to console him. He stared ahead, eyes unfocused, trying to will himself to keep breathing. His team kept their distance, offering their silent support. They wanted to believe that somehow, someway, she made it out and that no one had seen her. Hawkeye was too careful, too resourceful to be gone. She would not have risked the life of her pet. She would not have disobeyed his order to return to him. His shoulders shook as he tried to support himself, his gloved hands balled into fists braced against the cracked concrete.

Havoc sat down on the ground beside him, lost for words. They didn't plan on losing anyone today. Soldiers are meant to die in war. Soldiers are meant to retire and die of old age. Soldiers weren't meant to be killed in times of peace.

Fuery recognized a familiar face in the crowd, giving orders, "General Grumman!" he ran up to the man hopefully, "Is everyone accounted for?" There was still a chance. There was always a chance, no matter how slim. After all he had seen, he refused to believe anything was impossible.

The older man looked over the rims of his glasses, "We have five known dead, three presumed. The last few were in that building," he reported sadly, "It could have been far worse."

"Has...has Lieutenant Hawkeye reported in?" Fuery asked, fearing the answer. If everyone was accounted for and they had not heard from her, that was not a good sign. Three unaccounted for out of nearly 500 people at Eastern Headquarters meant the odds were unsavory at best.  _If she had made it out, she would have found the colonel first._

He pretended to flip through the list, already knowing who was on it and who was not. "Ah yes," he turned his attention to the distraught man on the ground, "Colonel Mustang! I don't think you've ever bested me in a game of chess if you sacrificed your queen. You best not do it any time soon. At least until you develop a more creative strategy, you'll need her."

Roy took a minute to process the old man's words, following him with his eyes as he walked toward the medic tents. He rose up, finding his legs weak beneath his body. Havoc half supported him as blood returned to his feet. Following the general, he scanned the faces of the injured, looking for the one he desperately needed to see. The general walked into a tent, then poked his head through the opening in the canvas, "Well, are you coming or what?" he pulled back the flap of the tent, revealing a soldier in a tattered blue uniform.

"Lieutenant!" Roy cried, running toward her. Somehow she was alive and well, laying still on a cot, with Hayate resting his head in her lap. Medics were encouraging her to take deep breaths from an oxygen mask, trying to counteract the effects of the heavy smoke. One of the medics even found a mask that would fit Hayate, giving him some much needed oxygen as well. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from the dust and smoke. Her hair had lost some of its shine, dulled by pale ash. But somehow she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Are you alright?" he asked, brushing some soot gently off her face.

She nodded, obviously exhausted, "Sorry I'm late, sir. My watch was off." She handed him his silver watch. Time stood still at 1430, the smallest hand quivering in place, trying to move forward.

"Don't worry about that," he smiled, carefully winding it up again, "Is she going to be alright?" He asked the medic.

"She should be, but she should go to the hospital to get checked out. They'll probably send her home tonight or early tomorrow. Take a deep breath and cough," she instructed her patient, listening carefully to her lungs.

Fuery eyed the deep scratches on her body, what was left of her uniform neatly sliced in some places, ripped in others. "What happened to you?"

She coughed, her throat burning at the force, already irritated from the debris she'd inhaled. Her voice was deep and husky from the smoke, muffled by the mask across her face. "I had to jump. The stairwell to the first floor fell during the aftershock, and the fire escape had already broken off. I kicked out the window, grabbed Hayate, and jumped." Although she refused it initially, she was now thankful for the oxygen mask. It felt as if she'd coughed her lungs inside out.

"It's just a little smoke," Havoc teased, "I take it you don't want to borrow a cigarette, Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye shook her head, "Please, I don't need to go to the hospital. They are going to be overflowing with the injured already, I would only be delaying those with more serious injuries from being seen." She stroked her pet gently, trying to comfort herself as well as him.

* * *

" _Hayate, hold still," she ordered, picking the pup up and tucking him into her jacket. She gave the window a swift kick with the heel of her boot, breaking loose what was left of the glass. Since the only stairwell had collapsed, she was running out of options. She checked the clock. 1430. They had to leave._

_She looked out the window, looking for a somewhat safe spot to land. Unfortunately the grass and flowerbeds were too far, on the other side of the footpath. As athletic as she was, she knew she wouldn't be able to clear it, not while holding onto a dog, no matter how well behaved he was. She tried to keep her eyes open as she jumped, but as she lay on the ground, she had to struggle to open her eyes. Hayate had crawled out from under her jacket and was whining softly, trying to get his master to rise. His protests grew louder, even into a soft howl until someone came running._

* * *

"That's what triage is for," Breda told her, "And you're one of the injured, like it or not."

"Riza," everyone turned to look at Roy, surprised by her use of her name, "I won't order you to seek out medical attention. But I am ordering you to be honest as to whether or not you need it. I would much rather take you there now to be checked out than to have something go wrong later on because you refused treatment." He fought hard to remain professional and maintain composure. He wanted to throw himself at her, to hold her tightly and never let go. With each breath she took he watched, realizing how precious each breath was, knowing she was alive. He'd come so close to losing her.

"That won't be necessary sir." she insisted, taking off the mask and taking a few breaths on her own. She could tell everyone was watching her carefully to see how her body would adjust. Soon she started to feel faint and the oxygen was right back in place.

"Take it easy," he encouraged, "If you're going to be stubborn, I'll have to insist that you stay here under medical supervision until you're at least able to breathe without a mask. Is Hayate alright?"

She nodded, taking the mask off her sleeping partner, "It was just as a precaution. He was probably better off than most of us, since he was staying low to the ground below the smoke."

Roy reached out to pet the dog, who relished in the affection, "Thank you for protecting my lieutenant."


	5. Chapter 5

Hawkeye was under strict orders to rest, avoiding the chaos of the scene as much as possible. It was one of the colonel's conditions she had agreed to in order to avoid going to the hospital. Hayate stayed by her side, with his head in her lap, sound asleep. The day's events must have been exhausting for him. She could feel it wearing on herself too, as her body no longer had to fight as hard to draw breath. The nagging pain from her fall was almost an afterthought, and she could keep it out of her mind as long as she was focused on something else. Hayate squirming to get comfortable, the sounds of the sirens, the State Alchemists, continuing to work to bring down what was left of the buildings. The Flame Alchemist had shifted gears from being in his leadership role to a dog of the military, aiding the other State Alchemists. They more than anyoe else could appreciate the process of destruction and rebirth. Parts of Eastern Command were total losses. Repairs would have been costly and dangerous, the most viable option was to rebuild from the foundation up.

"This seat taken?" Havoc took a seat beside her, extinguishing his cigarette on his boot heel.

"Not at all," she invited him to sit with her. People had been coming up to her all afternoon to check up on her, make sure she was as alright as she claimed to be.

"You two doing alright?" he asked, rubbing Hayate's head affectionately, "You gave us all quite a scare."

She nodded in agreement. As she replayed the past few hours in her mind, she knew she would not have done anything any differently. She had no regrets, but that was difficult to explain to others. An internal drive urged her to finish her task, to do everything she could for the survivors, no matter the personal risk.

"I know the colonel was scared to death when that building went down, but none of us could stand to lose you," he reminded her. "Things just would never be the same." Anyone serving in the military long enough was used to loss. It was easy to disassociate numbers and people until it was someone you knew. After losing Maes Hughes, everyone held their loved ones a little tighter, took a little longer to say goodbye.

"Is it wrong of me to say that I wasn't too concerned about others worrying about me?" She couldn't let herself dwell on those distressing over her. Her objectives were far more important than the thoughts and feelings of others. It was one of the reasons she kept others at a distance, never letting anyone too close. She swore to protect others, even at her own expense.

Havoc understood, she knew he did, but that didn't mean he always agreed with her. His situation was different. He had a girlfriend, a family, and his team. Hawkeye's list of people she could count on to worry about her was considerably shorter. "You've got to prioritize. And who am I to tell you what's important and what's not. You've got to decide that for yourself. We take enough orders around here, that's one that no one can give you."

She smiled, thankful for his acceptance, "They can try."

"Psh," Havoc dismissed that idea immediately, " _Try_ , yeah. We won't quit worrying about each other, we can't. Just make sure you've still got some instinct of self-preservation. Be brave, not stupid." The two were not mutually exclusive.

* * *

As night fell, efforts were put off until the next day. They'd been racing the sun for hours and with power from the generators was being used for critical purposes only, such as the medic tents. General Grumman encouraged everyone to go home, make sure their loved ones were safe, and return rested in the morning. He could tell however that one team would not be sleeping well tonight. He invited them all out for drinks, his treat, keeping an eye on the soldiers serving under him.

The general raised a glass of something amber and potent, "Here's to loyalty, to leadership, to courage, and to the ones we lost."

Everyone raised their glasses and gave a silent toast to the dead. Destruction at headquarters had been bad, but the rest of the city was still reeling from the losses, with many still missing. When the team went for drinks, they would usually be trying to drink each other under the table by now. But not tonight. They sipped at their drinks in relative silence at first, opening up as the night continued and the number of drinks rose.

"Sergeant Fuery," Hawkeye cautioned, "If you keep sneaking him food under the table, he'll get too full to walk home and you'll need to carry him." Normally she would let it go but he was getting more scraps than usual.

Fuery tried to refute her claim but he knew he'd been caught, "Sorry, I just wanted him to get a reward for his hard work today too." He had a soft spot for that dog, ever since he found the pup out in the rain. Having to carry Hayate home was hardly a threat.

Roy called the dog over with a whistle, trying to get him to sit for a chicken wing. The dog looked at him hesitantly, knowing that he wanted the chicken but would regret the decision later when he realized it was covered in a spicy sauce. "Sit for it!"

"No, sir." Hawkeye told him, "You can't give him that. He can have a tater tot." Apparently her superior decided the rules did not apply to him and he could give the dog whatever he wanted. She couldn't give him orders like she could Fuery.

Roy pouted, "He's a carnivore, you can't give him potatoes!"

"I used to have a bloodhound who was fond of whiskey," General Grumman mused, sipping on his own. "Watered down, of course, but he lived to the ripe old age of 18. And I'd say he had a longer, more enjoyable life than if I'd worried about what he was supposed to take in."

Hawkeye rolled her eyes, "Just strip off the skin first, sir."

"But that's the best part!" Roy wiped as much of the sauce off of the chicken as possible before feeding it to Hayate, who was leaving a pool of drool on the dirty bar floor. "Only the best for this dog."

Hawkeye remembered Roy's impassioned, but slightly manic rant about how much he loved dogs and their loyalty. While it was admirable, she hardly considered them to be human slaves. And Hayate definitely complained if you were a jerk to him.

"As long as he stays on that side of the table." Breda shook his head, "It makes me nervous not seeing where he's at under there." Hayate seemed to know that too. He spent a good chunk of the night staring at the second lieutenant, trying to unnerve him.

Falman returned from the bar with another round of drinks, "Bar is closing in 30, if you want more food I'd order it now. Hawkeye, they're out of the stuff you like but I think you'll like this. It's not as smooth, its a higher proof, but I think you'll like it if you're already tipsy."

"Thank you Falman," she knocked it back quickly, "It's not bad." She couldn't help but notice the way her boss was watching her. She was sure she must look like a spectacle. The rising temperature in her cheeks told her she probably should have quit before this one. She didn't like to be drunk, just a touch tipsy. When she did drink to the point of excess, she always did it alone. It must look unprofessional.

"Excuse me," Roy got up in a hurry and walked to the bathroom.

After thinking for a few minutes about how bad of an idea it was, Havoc decided to follow his boss into the bathroom. He could tell Roy was not pleased to see him taking a spot at the urinal next to him. Breaking the unspoken code between men of leaving an empty urinal as a buffer when possible, he asked, "Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Am I going to regret this?" Roy sighed, zipping back up. No one he knew, or at least knew well, ever asked to speak freely unless it was for a very good reason.

As much as Roy didn't want to talk, Havoc wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. "Look, life only gives you so many second chances. You almost lost her in the war. I can't imagine what that must have been like, having someone who will take a bullet for you. I can only hope that someone would be brave enough to do that for me. You could have lost her today. One of these days, you're going to regret getting that last second chance and never taking it."

"So yes, to answer your question I am going to regret it." Roy admitted, knowing full well that there was a possibility that some day something would happen to one of the two of them. It was a risk they decided was worth it long ago, and they would watch each other's backs for as long as humanly possible. "And I never did give you permission."

"We're off duty so I don't need it, I was just being polite. You're crazy about her. How many chances do you need?"

"It's not possible, Havoc," Roy admitted, defeated, "It's illegal. You know the rules."

"The military has bigger fish to fry," Havoc cried, "I think you two have just decided that you both deserve to be miserable and want to live your lives alone in a mutual state of suck."

"And the only way for us to not be miserable is for me to confess my undying love for her?" In his mind it sounded cliched and cheesy, something no one could take seriously. But as the words left his lips, they didn't sound so wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

"Here's the damage," their server handed the general their bill, "Thanks for coming in!"

"Thank  _you_  my dear!" he exclaimed, pinching the woman on the backside as she walked away. She jumped and turned to him angrily, "I think the young chap likes you!" He tried to blame poor Fuery, half asleep at the table. He bolted awake at the commotion, surprised to see a server glaring daggers at him.

The young woman wasn't so easily fooled and she slapped Grumman across the face before heading back to the kitchen.

"You can't win them all!" Grumman pulled out his wallet and handed a wad of bills to the woman on his lefthand side, "Would you kindly take this to the barkeep and thank him for his excellent service this evening?"

"Of course," Hawkeye nodded, sliding out of the booth, shaking her head slightly at her grandfather's antics. She had a feeling the server wouldn't be returning to their table.

As she paid their tab at the bar, she could feel an extra set of eyes watching her. A man sat around the corner, sliding off his stool to approach. He smelled of cheap cigarettes and cheaper beer. Had he been sober he would have almost been handsome, tall blonde, and well built. He could have been military, but she did not recognize him, at least in his current state.

"Uh oh," Fuery observed, "Some guy is going to try to pick up Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Now now, who are we to judge if our dear lieutenant wants a young man, or woman, to warm her bed tonight?" Grumman chided.

"Hawkeye goes both ways?" Breda asked incredulously.

"Stop, stop," Falman pleaded, covering his ears, "I can't know this!"

"Oh, come now! Don't be prudes!" the general laughed, "She can knock boots with whatever tickles her fancy."

"Yeah, that mental image does not help things, General," Breda agreed, a little uncomfortable, "I don't want to think about her fancy getting tickled by that dude."

"You want me to make your world start shaking again sweetheart?" the man slurred, "God, you're gorgeous." She didn't even have to look to tell he was looking her up and down. Even though her uniform hid nearly everything, it didn't stop him from looking.

Hawkeye smiled politely, taking a step back, "No, thank you. I'm not looking to go home with anyone tonight."

"The night is still young," the man kept closing whatever distance Hawkeye tried to create between them, backing her up into a corner. "We don't have to go home, I've got a car out back."

Hawkeye tensed. She hated feeling trapped, even though she knew her team was close by, watching for any sign that they needed to intervene. Before she could open here mouth, she felt her back run up against something. A hand gripped firmly on her shoulder, "Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," she didn't even have to turn around to see who it was, "This gentleman was just bidding me goodnight." Roy had a tendency to be protective, sometimes excessively so, ever since they were teenagers.

The newcomer sized up the colonel, and the blonde man at his side, cracking his knuckles as a not-so-subtle threat. He laughed at the woman's protector. "You know what they say about Xingese men, right? Nothing below the waist."

"Really? What's your excuse then?" she jabbed. She'd tried to be polite, but she just wasn't getting through.

Havoc snorted. He was already red in the face from drinking but his fit of laughing brought it to a whole new level, sending him into a coughing fit.

Roy loomed over the man, "The lady told you no. Even a dog can understand no."

"What? You already said we were going out back," the man told her, "You've just had a couple too many. We were hitting it off great before we were interrupted."

Before Hawkeye could even respond to that claim, Roy had thrown the man down on the greasy bar, holding him by his collar, "If she's too drunk to remember, she's too drunk to consent. For that matter so are you, even if you could get it up after all that pisswater you've had."

Havoc stepped in, "Roy, that's enough, I think he gets it." He understood wanting to protect the team but he didn't want anyone going to jail for it. "Apologize to the lady, man."

Hayate growled from under the table, waiting patiently for his master's orders.

The man stumbled to his feet, straightening his shirt, "Dumb bitch," he grumbled.

The barkeep held out a hand, stopping Roy from running after him. Despite his reputation, Roy had been raised to respect women. He despised men like that because he knew that was how others often saw him. In a way it was a strategic advantage because his political rivals always underestimated him. Men like that were predatory, looking for who they perceived to be easy targets. The drunk, the emotionally vulnerable, the social outcast, the ones most likely to get hurt. Roy refused to let his subordinate be used that way.

Hawkeye was leaning heavily against the bar, her normally sharp vision out of focus. Havoc was quick to notice, while Roy's eyes were still glued on the man, making sure he left the bar for good. "Hey, you okay there?"

She nodded, realizing she had everyone's attention. "I think I just need to go sleep this off. I can't remember the last time I had this much to drink." She gripped the edge of the bar tightly, trying to keep the room from spinning.

Roy could tell she was being less than honest. She was no lightweight, she held her liquor well. The woman also claimed to have never had a hangover, although he wondered if she just told him that to make him feel worse when he would wake up sick the next morning. Tonight something about her made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. She wasn't red in the face like she was earlier, she was pale and sweating.

"Lieutenant? What's wrong?" he asked. He kept his voice soft. It was not an order, he was asking out of concern. When she tried to brush off his worry he became a little more impatient, "Something isn't right. Your injuries..."

Roy draped his coat over her shoulders for privacy and began to unbutton her uniform. To his surprise she didn't fight him on this. Subconsciously she knew that something was different now. Her injuries were still painful from earlier, but she'd been able to keep the discomfort out of her mind until recently.

Breda shouted from their table, "Get a room you two!"

"Shut up," Roy growled, finding a deep purple painted across his lieutenant's side. He had seen it earlier when the medics were examining her and it had obviously grown since then. "We need to take you to a hospital."

"Sir, I-"

"Dammit Hawkeye, you need to learn to follow orders," he barked, "You wouldn't have been injured if you had listened to me earlier. You wouldn't still be bleeding if you'd gone to a hospital like you were asked. If you can't learn to follow orders, orders that are meant to keep you alive, then what the hell are you doing in the military?"

It was harsh, and he knew it. He had spent all day worrying about her, but trusting her instincts and training to keep her safe. She put others first when she disobeyed him the first time. She put others first by refusing to take up resources at the hospital. He would not allow for a third time. She didn't even try to hide the hurt painted across her face. They both knew what she was doing in the military, it was a question he never needed to ask. That was what hurt, not the yelling, not the nagging pain in her side. She was neither as cold or as strong as everyone believed her to be. Those closest to her were also the ones capable of hurting her the most. This was why she kept people at an arm's distance. This was why she refused to let anyone push the limits with her. At some point, they all hurt her. And Roy Mustang really knew how to salt a wound.

"Back off, Chief," Havoc got between the two, pushing Roy away and easing Hawkeye over to an empty seat. He respected his boss, but he wasn't going to let him bully anyone either, especially a friend. Roy could be pissed off for a little while, he'd get over it. There were more important things to consider. "Hey, Hawkeye, sit and rest for a minute. You'll be fine. Although alcohol probably wasn't a good idea with these kinds of injuries. We'll get you checked out just to be safe, okay?"

Hayate ran out from under the table and stayed glued to his master, trying to keep anyone from getting too close. His ears were kept back, his hair standing up a little straighter than normally, knowing something was not quite right. He even snapped at Roy when he tried to approach. Roy couldn't blame the dog for not trusting him. He knew how harsh he had been, but a little shocked to see how strongly she reacted. "I'm sorry. I just want you to be alright. I never wanted to hurt you."

"I was going to tell you that I agreed with you." she told him, trying to keep her emotions at bay. "I was not going to disobey your order."

Roy stood by, stunned by her words, finding none of his own to respond with.

"I, um, I'll call for an ambulance then?" Havoc offered.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some language and some non-graphic mentions of child abuse. Read at your own discretion. Thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying it so far!

 

They rode to the hospital in relative silence. Roy told the team he was going with her and no one argued, not even his lieutenant. She denied being in pain but laying back on the stretcher in the back of the vehicle took some work. Even though she had agreed that she needed medical attention, he could sense her anxiety. After delaying her care for as long as possible, it was finally inevitable. Roy tried to keep her calm, knowing her old fears would rise up again. Hospitals were full of difficult memories. Back during the war if you were injured severely enough to need a hospital instead of the field medic, your odds of coming back were bleak.

* * *

 

" _What?" Hawkeye asked in shock, sitting bolt upright from her stretcher, "Why did they take him to the hospital?"_

" _The major needs to get the round removed and we can't do that without anesthesia." Dr. Knox told her firmly, continuing to work on his current patient's wounds, "We just don't have the kind of equipment we need at every station. The military has money for tanks we're not even using but they're bleeding medical dry."_

_She nodded in understanding, trying to ignore the needle darting in and out of her skin. The bullet had been bad, but had she known this many needles would be involved, she would almost rather it had killed her. It must have been nearly an hour already since she came in with her superior officer. Ever since it had been a constant onslaught of sharps. Needles for an IV, needles for lidocaine, needles for morphine, needles for sutures._

_Dr. Knox put more lidocaine in the area where he was working, "Hold still! You don't want me to stitch you up crooked! A soldier will take a bullet, but flinches at needles...give me a break."_

" _Sorry," she muttered, trying not to dwell on it. The lidocaine thankfully was a slight improvement._

" _That's the one side done, turn around," the doctor pulled back the gown his patient was given to wear, "You're kidding. You're flinching at needles when you've got all that on your back?"_

* * *

 

"They're going to help you," Roy assured her, "I don't know what that will entail but you will probably at least need an IV." He understood how difficult it was for her and he was one of the few people she trusted enough to let them know why.

"I know," she told him, trying not to think about it, "I think I can do it."

The hospital was packed, but one could only imagine how much worse it must have been earlier in the day. Every room was full and many patients were receiving treatment in hallways, waiting areas or offices. Some were ominously draped in sheets, inconspicuously tucked in an otherwise empty room, waiting to be taken down into the basement. It was hauntingly quiet this time of night with most of the injured resting, or at least trying to. Hawkeye was situated in a hallway in a bed, waiting to be seen. It had been nearly an hour since they had arrived and so far they had only seen a nurse who took her vital signs. Roy didn't know much about medicine, but he knew from the numbers the nurse read off that her pulse was fast and her blood pressure was low.

"Where the  _hell_  is the military?" Roy snapped, "They can't send reinforcements? We've got dozens of doctors and probably a hundred nurses on our payroll." He tried not to project his frustrations on the staff. He knew they were overwhelmed and getting by the best they could.

"You a _re_  the military," Hawkeye reminded him, "Why don't you find out?"

"I already told you, I'm not leaving your side." he told her, smiling softly, "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Lieutenant."

A nurse came down the hall pushing a bedside table full of supplies, "Sorry it's taking so long, let's get some fluids in you and go from there." She started to unwrap her supplies, then looked over at her patient, "What's wrong?"

Hawkeye had withdrawn to the opposite edge of the bed, stiff as a board against the wall. Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the siderail tightly. Her keen eyes never strayed from the table of supplies. She could feel her heart pounding double time in her ears, drowning out everything the nurse was trying to say to her.

"She doesn't handle needles well," Roy explained, trying to calm his friend. He peeled her fingers from off the bar and let her grip his hand tightly, "Breathe, Lieutenant. Breathe."

"Well, she needs fluids and probably some blood. We've got to get an IV going. Let's get this over with quick," the nurse tried to place the tourniquet on her arm, but instinct took over and Hawkeye kicked the woman across the hall, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Roy crouched down to the nurse's level, "If I were to tie you down and tattoo your body against your will, you wouldn't like sharp things either. Now if you're nice to her, maybe she'll let you touch her and try again. But I expect that it's too late for that, so you may want to find another nurse to trade assignments with." he whispered, his voice dangerously soft.

He sat down on the bed next to his subordinate. He had a feeling this would come up. It was no fault of her own, and it was also something she liked to keep private about herself. It seemed so silly, being afraid of the twinge of a needle breaking skin. The pain lasted a second at most if you could even call it pain. The rational side of her knew that. But the side of her that ran on instinct, the side that she trusted to keep her and those she loved safe, told her otherwise.

"I don't know if I can do this, sir." she admitted, staring at the floor defeatedly.

"You can," he encouraged, "A little patience is all it takes. You get your blood drawn every year for your physical, and you do fine." He ran his hand in slow circles on her back over her thin hospital gown. He could feel the raised edges of her scars, a testament to her strength.

"Knox always drew my blood," she reminded him.

"I'll be right back," Roy promised, hopping down from his perch.

* * *

 

" _I...I didn't put that there." she told the doctor as he stitched up the exit wound._

" _Huh?" Dr. Knox had to stop working for a second to process what she had just said, "Is there a tattoo fairy I don't know about?"_

" _My father...I didn't have a say in the matter." she left it at that._

" _Good god almighty," the doctor sighed, rubbing a hand gently on her back, "I'm sorry, kid. Human beings really do some fucked up shit to each other, don't they?" He carefully continued to work on her back, trying to be a little more patient with her constant flinching._

" _It's alright, you didn't know."_

" _Alchemists are a special kind of messed up, I swear," he'd seen enough alchemy at work in the past few years to know it when he saw it. "Unfortunately they're also the best chance we've got of ending this war."_

_She nodded in agreement. She had seen her father's research corrupt his heart and mind. She'd seen it used to destroy countless lives, lives who were supposedly Amestrian citizens. She prayed it would not corrupt the one she shared her secrets with. She prayed that some day it would burn out of this world, never to return._

_Knox offered her a sip from his flask, which she politely refused. "Come on, I know you're underage but it will help take the edge off."_

_Reluctantly, she took a sip. It burned all the way down and she could almost feel it searing its way out of the wound below her collarbone. She had to struggle not to cough and spit it out out of fear of tearing at her fresh sutures. "What is that?"_

" _Gin," he told her, taking the flask back from her, "Not everyone's cup of tea, but no one around here drinks booze for the taste anymore. That lidocaine should be wearing off pretty soon. Do you want me to numb it up some more or just push through and be done?"_

" _Just finish it."_

* * *

 

Roy took the elevator down to the basement, feeling the temperature drop as he descended. There was only one corridor still illuminated this time of night, leading to a set of double doors. Inside he found a weary looking doctor pouring the last of a cold pot of coffee into his mug.

"You got a minute?"

"Is that a serious question?" Knox asked, gesturing to the room. Every table in the morgue was occupied or reserved, with a name on every drawer, "You're the last person I expected to see down here. What do you want?"

"There's a patient upstairs who could use your help," Roy told him, appealing to the side of him that still had some sympathy for the living.

"Ha, there's no one up there I can help," Knox told him dismissively, "One way or another they all end up here some day."

"Can you start an IV?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Knox asked, trying to rub off something stuck to his glasses, only half listening to his old war buddy.

"Well can you?"

"Get a nurse." Knox shook his head, finishing off his stale coffee.

"Tried that. The patient kicked her across the room."

Knox grinned in understanding, "Now I see what you're getting at. Hawk got her wings clipped?" He knew Roy had always had a soft spot for that woman. As reluctant as Knox seemed, he was already scrubbing his hands.

"Something like that."


	8. Chapter 8

Roy felt an immediate sense of panic when he returned upstairs with Dr. Knox to find the corridor empty. His lieutenant's bed had just been there a few minutes ago. Even though the hospital's hallways felt like a maze, he knew this was the spot. She had been here, just a few moments ago. "Where did they take her?"

"Things are nuts right now, they might have found her a room," Knox told him with a shrug, "Check with the front desk...don't do that!" The doctor slapped his palm to his forehead as Roy began poking his head into every room. He grabbed the colonel by the shoulder, stopping him, "You can't just go into patient rooms like that! This is a hospital, dammit and people are sleeping."

Roy knew that, but he just couldn't bring himself to care all that much. He continued to look into rooms, albeit a bit more discretely. He stopped when he heard a familiar voice, "I feel fine. Tired and sore, but fine."

A young redheaded woman in a lab coat was sitting at Hawkeye's bedside talking to her and checking her injuries. She seemed hurried, but pleasant. "I don't think surgery is the best option for you at this point. We'll treat you with fluids and some blood, and if it comes down to it we can do exploratory surgery to find the source of the bleeding and stop it."

"Oh great," Knox rolled his eyes, "Try not to kill this one, okay Shannon?"

"Why would I do that? This woman has suffered enough without me having to send her to you," Dr. Shannon replied, coolly, with her arms across her chest. "What are you doing topside?"

Roy felt a little uneasy standing between the two arguing experts. This Dr. Shannon was substantially younger than Knox but the two seemed to know her trade well enough. She also seemed perhaps more familiar with Knox than she cared to be.

"She and I go way back, I heard she needed an IV," Knox told her.

"Huh?" Dr. Shannon quickly checked her patient, "You don't have one yet?"

"Very observant, you give all your patients this much attention?" Knox drawled, "Dump three or four liters in her and she'll be fine."

"Liters? Don't you think-"

"This isn't one of your pussy heart failure patients, this is an Amestrian soldier in her prime. She can always piss out what she doesn't need."

Dr. Shannon looked skeptical at first, but she knew Knox's background enough to trust his opinion. While he dealt more with the dead than the living nowadays, he was a capable surgeon who saved many lives during the eastern conflict. His methods and mannerisms may not be taught in any medical school, but they came from years of experience.

"We'll try it." she conceded, "But first she's going to need IV access. You think you can manage that?"

"That depends on her," Knox told her, indicating their patient, "Am I going to get any sass from you tonight?"

"No." Hawkeye muttered curtly, just wanting it all to be done and over with.

"Good," Knox pulled up a seat beside Hawkeye, shooing the doctor aside, "Now let the master work."

Dr. Shannon shook her head as she left.

Roy took a seat on his lieutenant's other side, offering silent support as Knox checked the veins on her arms. He hoped this would not be a repeat of earlier in the night. Watching her, he could tell that she was beyond exhausted with little fight left in her. That combined with being surrounded by those she trusted might make the process go more smoothly. When Knox tied the tourniquet around her arm, he offered her his hand. To his surprise, she interlaced her fingers with his, gripping his hand tightly.

"Don't jerk away or you're going to make a mess of things," Knox cautioned, swabbing her arm, "This isn't the only alcohol you've seen tonight is it? Not a bright idea, missy." His tone was stern, but not condescending. He was looking out for her, but he had no room to judge.

She looked down, not answering, keeping focused on Roy's hand instead of the tray of supplies she could see in the corner of her sharp eyes.

"Here goes nothing," Knox warned her.

Roy kept a firm but gentle grip on her, trying to keep her from squirming away. Beneath his fingertips he could feel her pulse pounding away, the only sign that betrayed her calm facade. She held still as the needle found its mark, breathing a sigh of relief as the pain of the pinch faded. It was in, no more needles. Suddenly lightheaded, she leaned back on the bed. Roy's hand lingered on hers for perhaps a little longer than was appropriate but she couldn't bring herself to care. She held on for as long as he would allow her to.

* * *

Roy had fallen asleep at his lieutenant's side, watching her succumb to the exhaustion of the day. His back would be killing him the next morning for having drifted off in a folding chair.

"Colonel Mustang?" a voice whispered from the dark.

He nearly fell over in his seat, startled by the night nurse's quiet entry. "Yes?"

"There's a phone call for you out at the desk."

Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, he followed the nurse out into the hallway, looking back at his lieutenant one last time before picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey boss, what's the news?"

"Not much so far. They're dumping fluids into her and she seems to be improving. From what I've been told, she shouldn't need surgery." Roy could hear bizarre sounds in the background, but he recognized his second lieutenant's voice immediately. "Where are you, Havoc?"

"Oh," Havoc snickered, "Fuery had us pull over the cab. He's hurling in the kiddie sandbox at the park. I'm calling you from a payphone."

Fuery looked pathetic to say the least. His glasses hung crooked, jarred by his heaving. He had stayed bent over at the sandbox perhaps longer than necessary because he didn't trust himself to stand up just yet.

"Ugh," Roy sighed, thankful that his men at least had the common sense to take a cab home. They may be idiots at times, but they usually did the right thing.

"At least he had us pull over instead chucking out the window!" Falman shouted, rubbing Fuery's back, "Unlike someone!"

"That poor cyclist." Breda muttered.

"Which one of you is taking care of the dog?"

* * *

_"Awww, he's so cute, can I pet him?" Girls were swarming around the pup, who was soaking up the attention like a sponge._

_"Certainly!" Grumman chuckled, "He's quite a handsome fellow, just like me!"_

* * *

"The general has him."

"I see," Roy smiled, at least the pup was in good hands. Even if those hands planned on using his cuteness to get lucky. "Make sure you all report in at 0800, hungover or not, I'll be expecting you." He never pushed his men for more than he knew they were capable of. As early as it was, they were often there long before him.

"Aww, that's early boss," Havoc pouted.

"I can make it 0700 if you'd prefer."

"After the night you've had? No way would you come in that early just to make sure we were there."

After hanging up the phone, Roy watched his lieutenant, finally sleeping peacefully. She was curled up tightly into a ball, not quite feeling secure in her new surroundings. When she was younger, she used to sleep sprawled across the bed, half falling off by morning. Years of experience had changed that, and now she kept more reserved, even though Roy knew for a fact there was a pistol under her pillow.

* * *

_"Where is Hawkeye?" Roy managed, feeling the pain of his ribs spreading with each breath. Although the bullet was gone he could still feel its path. "Is she here too?"_

_"She's with Dr. Knox, she's doing just fine," Dr. Rockbell assured him, giving him something for the pain before he had a chance to ask._

_"Oh God." Roy groaned, shaking his head. "She's going to die."_

_"Come on," the doctor chuckled, "Knox is an ass, but he's a capable surgeon. Your friend is in good hands."_

_"Ass is putting it mildly."_

_"She's fine," the woman smiled, trying to calm her patient, "I saw her myself. She's resting, like you should be. I know Knox can be a bit abrasive. It's how he copes. We all have to get by out here somehow." Some told jokes, some drank, some weren't quite sure how to cope just yet. The ones that didn't learn how usually didn't last long._

_Roy tried to sit up, but was quickly shoved back down, "What the hell are you doing? Rest or I'll sew you to your bed!" Roy didn't even need to look to see who it was._

_"Don't you have patients to see?" Roy muttered, wondering if anyone was looking out for his subordinate if Knox was over here._

_"We're consolidating. Sara, can you and Urey take the last two? I'm needed up north."_

_"We'll manage. I've got two, Urey has another three." Dr. Rockbell sighed, "We can't get spread much thinner though. Are they both stable?"_

_"One needs an amputation but isn't strong enough yet, the other one got shot with this moron." Knox indicated the young major, "Two soldiers shot by the same bullet. If you're going to take a hit for someone, the point is to keep them from getting shot!"_

_Roy perked up at the surgeon's words, looking around for the two patients coming in. "Hawkeye?"_

_"Yes sir?" a sleepy voice muttered from the other room._

_Roy bolted up, standing for a moment to let his balance return before following her voice._

_"Does no one listen to me anymore? Sara, you can hear me, right? And see me? I haven't phased into some alternate dimension?"_

_Dr. Rockbell shook her head, "Just let him go, it will be good for both of them."_


End file.
